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Friday, December 20, 2013

I am pretty liberal with my thinking and my beliefs. I don't judge someone too harshly if they say the wrong thing. Yes I might stop and think, "whoa that was a mouthful", but then I try to give them the benefit of the doubt. Unless what they are saying is about me then I will bitch slap that person and judge them until the cows come home. Phil Robertson, of Duck Dynasty, the father of the family said the following things in a GQ interview;

“Start with homosexual behavior and just morph out from there. Bestiality, sleeping around with this woman and that woman and that woman and those men,” Robertson said in an interview with GQ. He went on to add that he thinks being gay is illogical because, well, “It seems like, to me, a vagina—as a man—would be more desirable than a man’s anus.”Most gay men I know, don't want to be rockin' the vagina. So "this woman and that woman" not likely. And a man's anus? I can only guess that it differs from that of say a giraffe, hard to reach too. Just sayin'. Only guessing though.

What is shocking are Robertson’s comments about race in the same interview. Buried under the firestorm of media and public outrage over Robertson’s comments on sexuality is his stunning insinuation that blacks were quite happy in the Jim Crow South:

I never, with my eyes, saw the mistreatment of any black person. Not once. Where we lived was all farmers. The blacks worked for the farmers. I hoed cotton with them. I’m with the blacks, because we’re white trash. We’re going across the field .... They’re singing and happy. I never heard one of them, one black person, say, ‘I tell you what: These doggone white people’—not a word! ... Pre-entitlement, pre-welfare, you say: Were they happy? They were godly; they were happy; no one was singing the bluesDude, just because you didn't see it does not mean it didn't happen. Pretty sure there are 6 million less Jewish ancestors in the world that if you thought it not true, does not make it so. Therefore African Americas were treated unjustly. Your saying otherwise, doesn't change that. Pretty sure the colour of your skin saved 'your ass' in the fields and you turned a blind eye, or were blind to, otherwise. And now, his apology, sort of....

"I myself am a product of the 60s; I centered my life around sex, dr...ugs and rock and roll until I hit rock bottom and accepted Jesus as my Savior. My mission today is to go forth and tell people about why I follow Christ and also what the bible teaches, and part of that teaching is that women and men are meant to be together. "However, I would never treat anyone with disrespect just because they are different from me. We are all created by the Almighty and like Him, I love all of humanity. We would all be better off if we loved God and loved each other."Pretty sure you just disrespected both gays and African Americans. Pretty sure you therefore do not love all humanity. Just my take on your statement above, a stab in the dark really. I know one thing about religion, I moan "oh god" at least once a week and them gays, apparently they like it more often so they are talking to our lord almighty likely daily! "Praise be to Jesus!"What I don't get, is Americans, and Canadians, fascination with this show that lands this guy an interview with GQ magazine. This illustrates more what's wrong with the world than this interview ever will. Men like this? They do not warrant a TV show, a commercial, an interview, or a Honey Boo Boo Christmas special. We need to stop supporting this kind of bullshit TV.It's only ma' opinion, which I am as free to give as he is. I don't have to like it, neither do you. Now that's my intelligent eloquent statement. My redneck one is, "dumb ass hillbilly". What are your thoughts on this? Like the show and everything since. If you watch this, do you also enjoy Honey BB (we're homies) or do you draw the line at DD (Duck Dynasty)?

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

I know sometimes I come across as the “got it together”,
funny as hell (a got it together funny as hell girl can only assume), harsh and
scary (so I’ve been told) girl.I am sure
some times I even come across as odd due to the bi polar.Maybe some of you haven’t even noticed
it.Lucky you, you got away
unscathed.I am strong enough sometimes,
only sometimes, to push this chemical imbalance in my brain completely aside
and to forge on.If you knew the extent
to the darkness, (which I hoped under these new meds I would never see again),
you’d think twice about ever questioning the strength and fortitude of anyone
alive with this disease.I know all
people get sad, lose people, loved ones, and that’s hard, that takes a person
down lower than you think you will come out of.I also know people suffer from plain old depression and how awful that
is.Seems never ending.I sympathize so greatly because I can put
myself in your shoes.I just can’t
control when I get to wear those shoes.It is heart wrenching, and tears me open, for me to even step into your
shoes at these times because then I remember so clearly my last low and once I think
of that, it’s hard not to be frightened and stopped in your tracks worrying
when the next low will be.As anyone
with bi polar knows, there will be one, just how dark and low you cannot know.

“How low can you go, how low can you go…..”Little GREASE dance off reference for ya.

This is the first time with bi polar that I have written
while down, bottom of the barrel, it doesn’t go lower than this, down.I figured if I can write about it when I am
in a semi normal phase or manic, I can try when I am down and down I am. Typically I just defer on Facebook to sending
other people’s postings and share them with whatever snippet I can pull out of
my ass on the fly.I say very little
otherwise until it passes.Sometimes I
am asked where I’ve been, and I say busy, but my heads been shoved as deep into
the sand as I can, until I can come out and its clear sailing.Sometimes I am actually busy because I am
manic and have “so much to do and accomplish, and start and finish and and and”.This writing thing has been really effective
for me as an outlet and as a way to empty my brain.But during a down, I have only done one on
one with people.

Typically this is when I’ve written to friends who’ve
wronged me, or I perceived it so when low, and hope they will love me again
helping me climb out of the hole.Not
only is that not possible but if I feel wronged why would I go back to said
person for help?I am so much smart than
that.That, “you wronged me love me”, is
a toxic rinse repeat cycle I have to try to never repeat again.It’s awful to be low then feel kicked by
someone you thought loved you, then you kick back, only to regret it all.You end up lying in a ditch half beaten to
death by your supposed friends and YOUR OWN mind at the end.No one wins in that.

Last night I was happily clicking away on Facebook
entertaining all.I apologized in one
update for the number of updates, I knew right then as the letters typed out in
front of me that I was manic, it had crept up on me unnoticed.I don’t get manic or stay manic for long,
barely at all.I never do.I didn’t think about that.Least I tried not to.You don’t want to, in happy euphoric moment,
think “I am gonna crash and it’s gonna get ugly around here”.You just want to try to control how high you
go, “slow down, breathe, slow down, and breathe”.The higher you go, the further the fall.

Here’s my take on Yesterday and Last night:

On Facebook I status updated with little to no impulse
control and I made 10-12 people laugh their asses of = manic (and comedic
genius FYI…why hello Robin Williams, why yes, you are the Grand PooBaa of the
American Bi Polar Society).

I skipped dinner, not hungry, have things to say, too busy =
manic.

Why can’t I sit still? = manic.

Take a nap in the day because I am bored to death = manic. (Oh
kids, there’s enough big pharma around here, I could put down a good sized
rhino for a nap).

8pm at night a bag of chips and mini chocolate bars for
dinner with zero impulse control = manic.

I went to bed happy and ready for a good sleep and even with
the sleep medication they gave me, nothing.Couldn’t shut down.Couldn’t turn
off.Then all my limbs started buzzing,
like electricity was running through them.Didn’t want to wake the husband, off to the couch I went.If you have never experienced or seen
restless limbs, once it’s got a hold of you it’s much like receiving the, “CLEAR”,
shocks they do in the ER when your heart stops.You find yourself contorting your body and stretching and clenching to
see if you can release the muscles that won’t calm down.I knew last night my body was telling my mind
the mania was short lived, I was peaking.

Imagine a really good low point for you, driven by the
environment, losing someone, having your heart broken, and now imagine that
feeling for no reason at all, none.It
just happens.One evening you are typing
jokes and making people laugh and you wake up in the morning and for no reason
life is worthless.Someone says good
morning the wrong way, or starts a conversation you could have had on any other
given day and it rips you in two.You
find yourself sitting on the floor of your closet holding back the deepest
wails you know want to escape.You put
your pajamas back on and slip into bed because the day has ended or you want it
to, it’s 10am.All you can think about
is “when will this end?”I can’t predict
it, but I get a better idea of when it might be coming each time it
happens.The severity of it is still a
surprise when the doctor gives you drugs that made you feel normal for a few
months.Makes it even harder.“Oh god, for the first time in 30 years I feel
normal and……shit what happened? Why am I down here?”“This wasn’t supposed to happen”.

I can blow happy thoughts out my ass, all day long but it’s
not gonna change the chemical imbalance in my brain. I can do something positive like write and
still, not sure I feel any better deep down.But I do it, I need to try anything and try I will.I guess I also write in case someone out
there suffers like this and they feel like they are alone, they are not.I meditated for the past three days.20 minutes at a time, reverting my thoughts none
judge mentally back to nothing but my breath.Today’s meditation ended when I launched the stool I use to meditate
with across the room when I came out of meditation no better than I went
in.Forgot entirely to give credit to
the 20 minutes I got, brain unclouded just breathing.Perhaps next time I can graduate to no shot
putting of wooden stools.Scared the
shit out of my husband.Thank god for
good aim and sturdy floors.

I always say the hardest part about this disease is the fact
that when you are good, feeling normal, you often think, “end it now, you feel
good, go out on a good note”.

Then you get manic and you are like, “do it now, you know
what’s coming, an almost unbearable low”.

Then you end up here, inside the low and you were just fine
and productive and happy, “end it now, this place is awful, I don’t have the strength
to do this again”.

There’s really no definitive time you don’t feel like just
ending it.But you don’t.

You stay the course.You
take stock of your life.You realize
what others don’t have and you do.You
make a list of positives, you are breathing, you have gorgeous hair, ass
could be bigger, your back pain worse, you are smart and funny and
beautiful.And even if you don’t believe
a one you are making an effort to sway your mind.You think of all those that love you and need
you and while you can’t think of a thing to place value on you know you cannot
let those who are patient enough to love you down.They think your special or they wouldn’t love
you.Don’t question why they do, just
let them do it.

Even saying that, “patient enough to love you”.Makes a girl want to end it for the sake of
her partner.It doesn’t make you want to
stay for her partner.“Wouldn’t he be
better off without me?”“And those
friends you can’t stop obsessing about when you are low; you gave them so much
of yourself and they just let you fall, they don’t miss you?Why stick around?You miss them many a day, but they’ve gone on
living like you didn’t exist, that hurts the most.Damn ego.But how much of an impact are you really having then?”

Please do not call 911.I have a dog in my bed with me and a husband hiding around the corner
saying, god bless him, “this is one of the best lows you’ve had in a long time,
and you can do this”.And I can, I’ve
done it 4278 times before, sometimes alone, sometimes with friends, sometimes
married.

So trust me when I say if you are sad, I will, can, have,
and will again, walk in your shoes and sympathize because I know how hard this
walk is.I am there for you if you need me because
much like my foot says, “To hurt is to learn.To teach is to heal”.

Monday, December 16, 2013

Whoopi Goldberg called it with the Poise commercial, (see URL below for your enjoyment UGH!), women "spritz". I hated this ad when it came out. Oh lord, I would lose my shizzle when it came on. We women don't need to talk about this. Keep this shit private. This is no one's business. You will find what you need at the pharmacy and it's probably labeled well enough you don't even need the pharmacist. And I am pretty sure there is nothing you can do about it thus making it a necessity, therefore why advertise? If you are pissing your pants, in all likelihood a girls gonna buy something to help. The universe and those people at Poise never had to burden us with the Whoopster.

Things change. Dramatically.I am here to say....can't do it.Okay this girl is going to admit....damn it!I peed. *head low*Whew, there I said it. I peed.This morning as I drove home with my coffee in my freezing car and my teeth chattering I sneeze coughed (the popular compilation of both) and basically wet myself.

DAMN IT this is embarrassing.

It's happened before but I was hanging upside down drunk having fallen off my porch deck. I was being held upside down by a thread when my husband arrived out of nowhere at 2am and rescued me before I fell to my certain death. At the time falling to my death seem too funny to bear, or maybe it was because my bladder was upside down, either way, I had to change the undies. Not the pants, I haven't gotten that carried away yet.I have a friend who always sneezes in threes and they're ridiculous sneezes FYI. High pitch squeaks like it's coming out her ears in a cartoon so it's no surprise by the 3rd sneeze she always has her legs crossed squealing, "I pee when I sneeze, I pee when I sneeze". I'd pee too if the only two holes that weren't clenched shut allowing air to escape were my ears and my whoo haw. Only dogs can hear this sneeze. I have laughed at this for YEARS! Until this morning. Damn her. Karma is such a bitch, she always pays it forward. My squeaker said it was from having babies. She never told me it happens with menopause.

If you print this picture you can have the children that ruined your bladder colour it in and stuff.

Apparently during menopause everything stops working or starts acting wonky. Your uterus turns itself inside out. Your ability to fight back wrinkles goes away (it's why Botox was invented and why women are willing to shoot poison into their face = menopause). Hot flashes start and CANNOT be controlled. For the record, they are not properly labeled as "power surges", you bunch of power surging assholes. If this is a power surge then I am a nuclear reactor and I need my own cooling tower. Oh and you might become a little testier than normal. I just stayed the course.

Is that a turkey up her.....that might be taking "cool down" a little too literally for me.

What also makes this female journey into senior womanhood so enjoyable??? We get to pee our pants randomly.Sneezed = pee.Jesus that was funny = pee.Coughed = pee.Go for a brisk walk/run = pee.Oh, and my personal favorite. Just stood up = pee.Fuck you mother nature, fuck you. Hey Adam, well played you miserable asshole, well played. Like defiling Eve wasn't enough for you? Like monthly periods weren't enough for you? You work out a deal with Mother Nature that includes peeing ourselves later in life? Your a gem Adam, a gem. Hello, my name is Nicolle and I randomly wet myself. I've been clean and dry for 20 minutes. And yes I find this as embarrassing as you do, just thought I'd Whoopie it up today and share. Start a healthy chat about peeing our pants. What a way to start a Monday.

Ohhh I get it, if I slap this woman my symptoms will go away right????

Friday, December 13, 2013

I am sorry to all you wonderful parents who play "Elf on the Shelf" with your kids. That little doll scares the living shit out of me. The face is over dramatic, then the arms and legs are oddly stick like. I could draw better ones. And then you hide the little fucker and he's supposed to be watching you? Might as well put Chucky under my bed and say "boo" in the middle of the night from under there!

That smile says nothing more than, "I will kill you when you're sleeping...."

Then to humour me, along came, "Whore in the Drawer". Oh how she made me smile. Perhaps I felt a certain kinship, a bond per say between her and I, I don't know. She's glorious and so real with her 44, 15, 22 dimensions. Layin' all sexy like in her drawer with her Cap'n panty remover in hand. She's all woman that one. Maybe she's not totally anatomically correct but least she's got hands and feet, elbows, knees etc. I will take a whore over an elf any day.

Classy wee bitch she is.

Then tonight my friend posts this below. I thought the Elf on the Shelf was the scariest thing I would see this Christmas and then this little bastard arrived. According to my friend, it's Elf on the Shelf and Whore in the Drawers love child. I am pretty sure Whore would have vetoed the pregnancy but maybe the dates got away from her. Either way, I am not sleeping tonight, or ever.

*shiver* It's like ET meets, that Lord of the Ring "my precious" creature, meets Elf on the Shelf and they all made a baby aka deposits with Whore in the Drawer and this is what came out to haunt me to death.

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Had I labeled this post, "Meditation", I'd have lost the few that actually read this. I am going to keep it really, really, short. By using double words like that, short. Today I had the hiccups and I hate them. And I have had them in the past until I am almost throwing up because they lasted so long. I get frustrated as I cannot get rid of them, which knots up and stiffens your diaphragm more, and keeps them going and going and going until your only (my only) recourse is some sort of big pharma knock me out pill. Can't have the hiccups when you are passed out, muscles relaxed, cold now can you?

A hiccup (/ˈhɪkəp/HIK-əp; also spelled hiccough) is an involuntary contraction (myoclonic jerk) of the diaphragm that may repeat several times per minute. In medicine it is known as synchronous diaphragmatic flutter (SDF), or singultus, Latin for the act of catching one's breath while sobbing.[1] The hiccup is an involuntary action involving a reflex arc.[1] Once triggered, the reflex causes a strong contraction of the diaphragm followed about 0.25 seconds later by closure of the vocal cords, which results in the classic "hic" sound. At the same time, the normal peristalsis of the esophagus is suppressed.[citation needed]

Hiccups may occur individually, or they may occur in bouts. The rhythm of the hiccup, or the time between hiccups, tends to be relatively constant.

A bout of hiccups, in general, resolves itself without intervention, although many home remedies are often used to attempt to shorten the duration.[2] Medical treatment is occasionally necessary in cases of chronic hiccups.

Yeah, what they said above.

﻿

I've shivved someone for less.

If a pill will relax the diaphragm that much why the fuck can't I? I am a big strong girl. I have willpower. I quit smoking and gained 30 pounds, that's some serious eating commitment there! I broke up with a guy when I realized I wasn't his only girlfriend. Do you know how hard that decision was? I quit drinking just out of the blue one day. Course that was a day after I had found myself waking up in the dog's bed. I have strength of commitment people.As many of you, those that read anything I write, know, I have taken some meditation classes for pain (injured back) and anxiety (the desire to kill strangers especially when in Toronto in my car). I haven't followed it totally, I am not a die hard. However, now and again, I sit down and meditate for 10 to 20 minutes. While I stretch after a workout, I do the exercises of breathing and focusing my attention. And when in Toronto with the idiots, I breathe, a lot. More than most. "Breathe in, big breath, blow out, big breath". Lives have been saved.

I love how she's looking at her killer hands with a grin. "All is lovely with the world". And I am the crazy one?

When I got the hiccups today I did a little trick the leader of the cult, oooops I mean meditation course, taught us. I focused entirely, eyes closed, no judgement of passing thoughts and focused on the hiccup itself. Where it came from, how it felt, where it was in the body and I breathed, big breath in, big breath out. It was no more than 3 hiccups and they were gone. They were gone!!! I, Nicolle Diane Weir, cured the hiccups. I meditated, or for the amateurs out there, breathed my way out of them. It works with the itchies too. Got an itch.? Focus everything you have on the itch, think of nothing else, don't judge when your thoughts go elsewhere, bring them back gently to the itch. Breathe in and breathe out, and you may just stop an itch. Now if the itch is caused by crabs or fleas, that's doctor shit only. I can't cure that shit. *shiver*I much prefer this to drinking from the back of a cup apparently through my mouth. Which always ends up my nose, and I almost choke to death. 3 minutes later, sitting pretty, once my diaphragm flips back into position..."hiccup". "Mother trucker!!!!"

I like to wear this outfit when I have the hiccups.

Can't hurt to try right? It's only breathing. If it doesn't work for you don't hate mail me. It may only work for those dedicating their lives to a calmer lifestyle. AKA non working lazy asses like me.

Monday, December 9, 2013

I recently met up with an old friend. A dear friend with whom I had parted ways. No reason beyond life and distance but Facebook being the friend finder it can be, reunited us. To say it was lovely is an understatement. We are kinda in love with each other. Not in a sexual way, in a wanna be your bestie kind of way. I think we hugged 7-8 times in 24 hours. I am not a huge hugger. The only reason I didn't curl up in her bed and stay up chatting was because I snore much like a logger. I didn't want to do that to her. What I noticed almost immediately with my friend was her need to apologize to me, a lot. For everything, and anything. Whether it was a story being told in the wrong order of time, or a bump into each other in the kitchen, or maybe not having salt out. "Oh sorry", was said a lot.In listening to her talk, (we never shut up for 18 hours), she said the words "I am sorry" hundreds of times. Hundreds.Her story isn't an easy one to hear. We've all had our life battles, mine wasn't easy and neither was hers. Sometimes during her story I found myself stunned silent. And then she would apologize for that. I kept telling her that keeping the story straight, in the right order, didn't matter and not to apologize. That I would ask if I couldn't get it straight.I had a friend who told me to stop apologizing in the last year or so. A friend and I were falling apart and I was grasping for help, for anyone to listen, to guide me, to save me and then I would feel guilty and bad and I would apologize. She told me I would never be truly happy until I stopped needing to say I was sorry for things I said or did. I had to stop apologizing for my existence.And there I sat watching someone I loved, apologize not just for content or actions, for basically anything. She had become timid and quiet. Reserved. Now I get that we are adults now. When I knew her we were in our early 30s, late 20s. We are both now married, she has a daughter, I my step kids. Life is different but the apologies, they hurt me every time she said one. I now know why, I've figured it out because, as you know, I am a genius that way.During the tumultuous time in her life she learned that saying sorry was easier than a fight. To fight kept the tension going, kept the fight alive. Beating someone who is apologizing isn't as fun as beating someone who's screaming "I'm sorry". I am not saying she was beaten, not at all. I am saying she learned how to stop a fight by not engaging, by being the fall guy, the person to blame.

What I further learned was, in repeating the words "I am sorry" you feel sorry. You can't change that unless you are a sociopath and don't feel what you say. Saying sorry makes you feel sorry. And with that comes guilt, shame, and a feeling of not being good enough in that moment so you apologize for it. You degrade yourself each time you say you are sorry as an auto response from a traumatic past. You are harming yourself.Now I am not saying not to say sorry when you are being an ass or when you've made a legitimate mistake eg: bumping into someone, a Canadian favorite, "sorry eh". But what I am saying is, if you are an auto apologizer, you need to stop every time you go to say it and ensure there is something to be legitimately sorry for. Make sure when you say sorry you have something to be sorry for or else you are doing yourself self harm and you know our motto around here;

Wednesday, December 4, 2013

For pain suffering, both mental and physical, one needs to find time to be calm, to breathe, to just "be". That's not easy with ADHD, OCD and all the other perks of being crazy as a loon. I mean in the past my brain just never stopped, least now I can stare blankly at something but even then, my focal point typically is on something I can't shake out of my head. So how do you turn off?

This is genius. Do you walk your dog or your thoughts? Think about it. *snicker*

Seriously, how do YOU do it? (A curious mind wants to know).Last winter I took a course which basically, and entirely, ended up being about being in "the NOW". Right now in this moment as I type to you. Fingers are typing. Check.Fast. Check.No pain there. Check.Brain functioning. Check.Body is warm and comfy. CheckI am going to stop there because that's all I really need in "the NOW" isn't it? Do I need to go into that I am not hungry, I have money in the bank, a roof over my head, a husband who adores me, kids who are the loves of my lives, a dog I don't want to live without.....I mean, that's all just icing on "the NOW" cake. Now, I understand as you read this, you could have tears rolling down your eyes because your now isn't "all that". Then I want you to remember this;

It is what it is, only while it is, then it isn't, then it's something different.

It won't be "all that" forever. Maybe a minute, a day, a week, it will be something entirely different if you allow it to be so.Yes it simplifies life but life isn't meant to be as hard as we make it out to be. We focus on tragedy after tragedy barely scraping by them and forget that in between those we could have let go of it and lived happily. Look at a cancer patient. I have a friend battling it right now. And I know in between treatments she is angry and frustrated with how sick she feels but she is also, "ENJOYING EVERY SECOND OF LIFE" because..... What if we didn't wait until we had cancer and just remember in between every crack in the road we just let go and tried to smile about nothing? A bird, a flower, a dog doing something silly. Just bask in that moment of peace. Ever seen a sick person just smile and catch yourself wondering how? Because they have put aside that illness and got into the now of some moment we aren't a part of but probably could be, if we allowed it. Stop and smell the roses. They did. You just walked right past them.

Could you pass this right by? There, by itself, in someone's yard. Would you stop and smell it? I would. Now. Not the old me.

I took a meditation course this past summer and along with remembering life is less stressful in "the now" it teaches you how to calm down, be with your breath only, nothing else, just "there", "present", "in the moment". I hadn't done any practise of it since I left the course. I learned enough I thought. WRONG.I caught myself lost in a negative moment of history with a past friend the other day. Again, I was told something that wasn't true, maybe it's his truth, but it's not mine. And it hurt, and it made me mad and I started to obsess about it. So I went online and found some things to watch with him on them and I remembered my admiration of him and some things he is doing and found a positive place again. I even sent him a positive twitter message. I could not have climbed out of the "why did he do that to me" place this fast, if I hadn't of meditated this morning.This morning I did a meditation called "The Room". A beautiful voice takes you into your "ideal room space". You design all your favorite things in your head and you walk into your room. In this room is you. You greet you. And you just be in the room with yourself. And as I always do I find myself comforting myself. Telling myself how special I am, how beautiful and smart. Worthy. I smile. Sometimes I cry even, tears of happiness. I am in my favorite place with an amazing person. Why wouldn't I be happy. And when I come out, I want all things negative to be positive again. I remember how honestly worthy I am and don't often allow myself to see. It's a beautiful head space to be in.

How they got in my head I don't know. Only thing missing is green palm leaves, sand and ocean in the view out the curtains.

Whether you believe in meditation or not, matters none. What matters is, right NOW. It's all that really matters. Then there will be another NOW and one after that. And what is, only is, while it is, then it won't be. Do you meditate? Do you live in the now? Try it sometime, it's a nice place to be when you remember to visit. Imagine living there! No wonder that Dalai fella is always smiling.

Saturday, November 30, 2013

When I was 20 I wanted a tattoo. My boyfriend got one, I chickened out. I was scared it would hurt too much. I went back a year later, same place, no boyfriend, and got the one I wanted. It all happened in California at my friend's parlour. She, my friend, is like my sister. I have known her since birth, or she me, she's just a fraction older so basically when I was born she, Kimmy Jane, was waiting. Our parents had a cottage two doors apart and we've been just "two doors away" in my heart ever since. The only person I trust to tattoo me is Kimmy Jane. Not because I don't trust other artists, the artistry isn't the issue. She asks me all the right questions, we bond as it happens, and I trust her that everything is clean and new, and my tat is as important to her as it is to me. She is in Lackawanna New York and that's how far I go to see my sister and get permanent stuff on me, 4 hours. No pain, no gain people.I have only one picture tattoo on me really. Well, I guess 3 technically. When I was 20 I got Thumper on my hip. I loved it. She (my Thumper was a she) was on her back, holding her belly in a big belly laugh. I love to belly laugh and when I used to sit at the coffee table on the floor and eat I would always tap my foot, aka "Thumper".

So cute. I'm such a stupid ass.

When I got together with my now husband he and my father conspired one night over how "Thumper" was "thump her". I was insulted, pissed off, and a little remiss about the volume of men who may have thought the same so I decided to cover Thumper up. I never should have. On went a 4 Leaf Clover that had to be huge to cover each end of Thumper and my new last name went in the middle. Bye bye "thump her". The new one is blasé to say the least. It's common place. It's not art, it has no meaning but a joke. But that's what I asked for, and that's what I got. I remember Kimmy not wanting to cover Thumper and I should have listened. Thumper was a part of history, a part of my life and she should have stayed that way, a part of me.Every other tattoo I have are words, parts of my story. And I suppose then so is Thumper and the Four Leaf Clover cover up. I just don't happen to care for the cover up. She did a perfect job on it, don't get me wrong. But if you make a solid decision to get something and there's a reason for it in your heart, don't change that. Ever. For anyone. My Kimmy has drawn the most beautiful array of fall coloured flowers now. We will eventually start the process of covering the 4x4 inch clover with a big Gerber daisy in deep orangey red, then sun flowers, and more Gerbers and greens. It will go from the front of my hip, the hip bone, over to my hip and up my ribs. I can't wait.I understand I am 43. I get it, I do. I know someday, it better be a long long time, I will be a grandmother. I will either hide them, remove them, or have forgotten they exist like I do now. I am no Helen Mirren, nor do I plan on being, so a one piece bathing suit it shall be thereby making my hip tattoo a non issue. It's the others I will have to explain and explain I shall. It's not as hard as you may think even though there are over 10 now if you count them as done individually. First one "AT" ("after Thumper");To piss off my father I got the kanji symbol for "Father" on the inside of one heel. So when he saw it and got angry I could say "it's says daddy, daddy" *insert guilt here*.To piss off my husband (are you sensing a pattern here) I got the kanji symbol for "Dan" on the inside of the other heel. So when he saw it, well he just called me an idiot. Wasn't as fun as I thought. I added my name on my next trip next to his, our romance is now outlined in kanji on my foot. Or as my husband says, "chicken balls and rice is what it probably says!". That's okay too cause that's f*cking hysterical I think.

Chicken balls and rice. I know. Probably is. *snort*

On that same trip I had a native wolf tattooed over the symbol for "Father" because the old Cherokee Legend reads;

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life. "A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy.

"It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego."

He continued, "The other is good - he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.

The same fight is going on inside you - and inside every other person, too."

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

IN THE END, NO MATTER YOUR STORY, YOU HAVE TO HAVE THE POWER AND WILL TO FEED THE GOOD WOLF.

I love this one. I have since it was applied. And the covering of the other, unnoticeable in her redesign of this as she did it free stylin'.

This is something my father would say. That a person creates their own demise or success so it seemed fitting.During the same visit I also got "Be True to Yourself" below the low of my back, just below the tramp stamp spot. I have always felt that I wasn't true to who I really was. I just never admitted it, never could touch it, couldn't place it. I was working on it. I knew I was somehow not being true so there it went, onto me, to remind me to find truth. On my next visit I was in the throws of struggling through life. Really struggling with where I came from, who I was, who I was meant to be. I was a bit lost to say the least. I always felt like I was damaged goods but strong enough to fight my way through it. One of my favorite singers of all time, Sarah McLachlan. One of my favorite old bands, The Beatles. A song in common and a favorite. Blackbird. The phrase, "Take these broken wings and learn to fly", screamed at me. It's what I was learning to do. I was broken and I needed to learn how to fly again. At one point in my life I was blind to all the hardships. I lived with them on my shoulders but was blind to their weight. Around the phrase, 3 tiny black birds in various degrees of flight. It was very tiny. Kim wasn't even sure she could write that small, but she did. I often got comments about how tiny it was. How much people loved it. It was considered "darling". And life continued. The struggles continued. The struggles turned into leaps and bounds. Life changed. It didn't become easier, but it sure was starting to make more sense.As I looked down on "take these broken wings and learn to fly" I realized I wasn't broken. I was who I was because of where I came from, where I had been, where I would go. I was me. I decided the next phrase needed to be on my wrist. "All your life, you've been only waiting for this moment to arrive". I had been waiting to understand I wasn't broken for so long. It was such an amazing feeling. Sitting in a course I suddenly realized I wasn't held prisoner by my past. I wasn't broken by it, I just was. So that 2nd phrase had to be a part of me. When I did that, I added another bird in FULL flight and two more in various degrees, tiny ones, behind my right ear. All the rest was on my left wrist, I wanted things on both sides. I wanted some balance.While there I also decided to get two sentences put on the top of my foot and those two lines are:To hurt is to learn.To teach is to heal.

I put this one up to show how straight it is. Any imperfections you see are the bumps and veins in the foot or my writing! LOL

Many times our learning requires pain. We sometimes learn best sadly when we are hurt, when the heart aches. We get the strongest messages sometimes from agony. And taking that agony and sharing it with people in some courses allowed me to heal more than I ever thought possible. And with my step kids, my step daughter especially. Every time my pain can teach her a life lesson, I heal a bit more. I wasn't done yet. I also got two more lines added above "Be True to Yourself". "Be Authentic" and "Be Honest". The only way to be true to yourself, the only way to heal and learn, is by being your authentic self, who you were meant to be. The only way to be who you were meant to be in how you live life is to be honest with yourself and all those around you no matter the price. I tend to choose the fonts when I go to Kimmy and my bad, I chose different for both the 2nd phrase of the song AND the lines on my back. She told me they were off a bit, I didn't care. I liked that they stood out. They were the next steps in my journey. So she tattooed them that way. Everything happens for a reason doesn't it?And here we are at my last visit. We couldn't get the flowers even underway, the 4 Leaf Clover cover up. It's a big piece. It's going to be outlined one day and coloured over time. We were only in town, the USA, for about 30 hours. I went down with my best friend in the world, Brenda. And we missed each other to say the least Brenda and I. Silly girls we are, we both got upper ear tiny little cartilage piercings when we were at the shop, they do all the good stuff there. And I then went and got another little wee one on the inside little part of the opposite ear. They are so tiny they are barely noticeable but one ties me to my bestie and the other is for me. Just to say, "why not, I am not as old as I think I am sometimes". On this most recent visit Brenda didn't get anything else done but designed in her head her next steps down tattooing lane. For me, Kimmy re-did the "hurt heal" just darkening and evening up the font. I don't always avoid the "itching" part of the healing process. LOL. Sometimes some letters therefore don't heal and "stay" the same. She fixes that while scolding me gently. She wants to touch up my heels each time I am there too because they are the worst to heal properly with the dead skin we sloth off on our feet but I don't allow it. Well not each and every time anyways. Kimmy tells me each time where not to tattoo and how to. I am not too good with the "listening".

This just shows how much darker it is BUT clearly a bad shot as it has NOT changed it's placement and become crooked. I am not "drooping" yet (see later).

As I said before, the fonts around me are not the same. The top of my foot is very simple printing. My wrist phrases, two different simple fonts. What I wanted to make this look better, to amp it up, was to draw around each phrase separately as if they were torn pieces of paper that were taped on my wrist. Just as the tattooist does when they stencil on you, draw the tattoos, and in Kimmy's case, store them on the walls of her office. Now it's a piece of paper with the 2nd phrase and the 1st phrase appears to be taped over it. Like paper has fallen and landed on my wrist. It's cute, I like it.

This looks so much like her stencils. It's an omage. Some she rips, some she cuts with scissors, depends on her mood. And now they look much like those and are a reminder of her.

On my back we finished that work as well with "Be Real" "Be True" side by side. We used yet a third font and added space in between them all allowing for my back to read;Be True Be RealBe HonestBe AuthenticandBe True to Yourselfbe

It's hard to make this look straight in a picture as the middle of my spine goes down the middle of the shot. My spine has curves and bumps, you know, from vertebrae. I really like that they are pieces added over time. And yes the "y" in "yourself" appears backwards but does on the lettering we chose that day too. The last thing I will be doing is a period after "be". I missed asking for it. It is the end of the phrase after all. It's all about punctuation.Basically this reminds me and anyone else behind me to be real, and true. To do so you must be authentic and honest with yourself and others. And this means you are being true to yourself. And sometimes, you just gotta "be".Ya' know what else I learned lately. I am not good to myself, not at all. In fact, I am mean. I don't do or say nice things about myself in my head or out loud more often than not. I have people remind me all the time, "you are being too hard on yourself" etc. It's become the mantra of people I admire and in course work, meditation courses, they always say, "be kind to yourself". If you are stressed. Take a minute to breathe. If you are lonely. Call a friend, don't hide in your loneliness. If you have pain. Do what you can, not what the person next to you can. "Be kind to yourself". I decided not long ago to do that once a day. One thing each and every day that is nothing but kind to me, myself and I. As a reminder I figured I should slap that onto my arm as well, in pretty writing with pretty swirls and my favorite, a happy face over the "i" in "kind". *giggle* Makes me happy every time I look at it. I did a little dance when it was finished. "I love it, I love it, I love it" I danced and sang.

The happy face over the "i" makes me so happy. The "y" having a heart is the "Kimmy touch" just for me.

And that my friends is all about my ink and my complicated relationship with it. My husband's relationship is worse. He hates each and every one of them. But me, I love them. I just do. I am not about "the art". I don't want big scenes and flourish, I want words. I live for words. I love to talk, write and read. I love words. I am a walking word. The "art" will come with the cover up of the clover. It will be great, full of colour and splendor, but for now. Just words. And words aren't easy to do, not cleanly, small, and straight, yet they are. And as importantly for me, they are done by my sister and most of the time during trips with my other sister.Some might say this is impulsive, even part of the bi polar, and it wouldn't be a lie really. Getting another one is impulsive, it's addictive. But there is no impulsiveness to the fact I sit and think about things that are important to me, that have meaning and I apply them to myself knowing full well I am stuck with them at 80 years of age drooping right off me. So be it. Sisters united by life......and a little ink here and there. Got any tats? Tell me about them. I love a good story.